Opinion
GHOSTS DON’T TALK AT BEDTIME!

Akin started to fidget whenever he passed by the entrance of granny’s room ever since she was buried. When asked, he would say ,” I remember she was lying on the floor for days, covered up in white agbada in that room”. It’s been a month since she was buried yet he can’t seem to forget what he saw.
At night, when it’s bedtime, he wouldn’t sleep unless there was enough light or a tiny source of light. He became very paranoid that even our mother could do nothing about it.
He was granny’s favorite boy. He used to play in her room, listen to fairytale stories told by granny even when it’s not moonlight yet. Once in a while, granny would prepare his favorite porridge, her special recipe, just for him.
They would clap hands, chorus words I don’t understand, laugh out loud and continue talking or should I say mumbling because they were never loud but you would know they were talking.
That was Akin’s baby boy era- my grandmother loved him the most and she didn’t mind showing it. I wasn’t jealous because she takes care of me too. She would wash my clothes, make my hair, buy me “dundun alata”, a sweet spicy snack we both loved – the only common thing I shared with her in terms of taste.
It’s not surprising that Akin is unable to forget her because I haven’t forgotten her too but why does he show signs of fear when passing by granny’s room? why does his pace quicken? And by the time he’s at the end of the passage, he catches his breath like he ran a marathon.
Whenever our mother leaves for her stall, Akin would stop playing around the compound or the house, and sit quietly in the room we both share. I can’t believe that the same Akin that wanted a room of his own when we packed into this new apartment is now as docile as a fish.
“Changes really do happen”.
Now I pet him, sit with him, and make sure he’s not alone whenever it’s just the two of us at home.
Sometime last month, a few days after grandma had been buried, I noticed that he had become very fearful.
It was obvious on the day we had electricity issues and he was in the bathroom, the light bulbs were working fine until the electrician that our mother consulted started checking and twisting the wires.
Immediately, the bulbs started flashing rapidly, we – myself, mum and the electrician, heard a very loud screaming from the end of the corridor that links to the bathroom.
“Yeeeee! My mummy! Sister Simi!”
For a moment, I thought someone poured some devil’s bean in his bucket of water.
The other night when mum sent us to buy two bags of sachet water at the end of the street from her customer that sells at cheaper rates, I should have gone there alone.
Going with Akin created a fear that I never had. Walking along the bushy pathways wasn’t scary for me but he started jumping at the sight of his own shadow. I had to hold him tight till we reached the shop. Thankfully, he looked and acted alright when we were there. On our way home, with a bag of water each resting on our heads, I made him stay in front to avoid another fear drama but he ended up wasting a whole bag of water because he imagined an ‘ojuju’ approaching us.
Despite my effort to prevent mother from knowing what’s going on, my baby brother fumbled last night. The most memorable experience ever with the fearful Akin.
Mother cooked efo riro and poundo yam, it was a special evening because she even bought one bottle of 7up for us and a bottle of maltina for herself, to “wash down” the meal.
We were watching a Yoruba movie – the one with exaggerated witches, herbalists and traditional village setting that mum loved to watch, suddenly, the light went off.
” Awon nepa yii sha!” My mother exclaimed.
” E ma worry, mo ma turn lantern nisin” , I assured her.
The room was blank and dark and the only ray of light was from the compound next to us. They were obviously richer so they had their power generating machine turned on very quickly.
I was about to stand up from my seat when something held my Ankara dress tightly. I tried pulling it but it was stuck.
” Simi, did you not see the lantern?”
” something is holding my dress”
“ What do you mean? Will you pull yourself together and get the lantern on?”
I pulled my dress again, this time, harder than before. The grip was like gravity, almost pulled me to the ground.
*Mummy, where’s Akin?*, I asked while I was still fumbling with my dress after I realized that I haven’t heard his voice since the light went out a few minutes ago.
There was pin drop silence. Mother was searching for her noisy Itel phone when I tried to pull my dress again but the grip got harder than I expected. So I traced the direction of the grip and I felt someone’s hand, I froze for a second,
” Yeeeee, mummyyyyy , a ghost is holding me”
“Jesuuu mi o, olorun oba gba wa o!”
She started praying fervently and in that moment I heard a sudden familiar cry from the same direction where my dress was held. I figured it was my brother.
” Shey Akin niyen?”, My mother inquired.
” Mummyyyyy”, he cried out.
“Ah! What is wrong with you people?”, she said to us, annoyingly.
I was actually furious and irritated. All I wanted to do was illuminate the room and continue my delicious dinner. I finally rescued my dress from his grip and the crying increased.
To be honest, I thought the phobia drama had ended until he said: “Sister Simi, Grandma is holding me”.
“Grandma as how?” , I asked instantly.
“God forbid! Don’t say rubbish in my house o”, mother retorted with the spiritual Nigerian mother personality in her taking the spotlight.
“Mummy, I’m not lying”, he kept saying amid sobs.
“E gba mi o, Simi bring the lantern quickly “, mother was low-key scared but as the only adult in the room, she strived to maintain composure.
“mummy!”, he wouldn’t stop screaming. I wanted to blame it on his imagination but I didn’t think that was the case.
“Akin, calm down nau”, I barked at him because I was tired of the constant fear drama since Grandma’s demise.
As I lit the wick in the lantern, the golden yellow light engulfed the previous darkness like it was never dimmed of brightness.
Meanwhile, my brother was still crying a few feets away from me, wailing as if he actually felt grandma’s ghost holding him.
“Simi, hold my phone properly”, mother said as she was seated while she tied her wrapper into a tight knot at her right side, and clumsily fit the ends of the wrapper in between her thighs.
“Oya, show me where grandma is!”She commanded.
“Mummy, see the hand here”
“Which stupid hand?”mother questioned angrily.
She was fuming with something in between anger and irritation.
“Ah! You won’t kill me this boy”
“This is a rat trap, ‘pakute’, don’t you ever play such pranks on us again”, mother chided him.
“I didn’t play pranks, I actually felt someone’s hand, believe me”, my kid brother defended himself as always.
“Akin! The meaning of your name is The Brave One so why are you so scared?. It’s just the image of mama that you have in your head”
“So grandma is a rat trap? Oga o”, I intentionally responded. Mother’s hysterical laughter infected me and we chorused the laughter till it died down.
Mother kept him close to herself, petting him, with his head resting on her laps and her jollof hands slapping-massage his not-so-tiny back.
Akin kept repeating the defense line- ‘I’m not lying’, for almost half an hour at intervals before he dozed off.
Soon enough, my little Akin was back to his normal self and I had placed the lantern carefully in its usual position. It was at this point that I sat down on the cushion at the extreme end of our living room, dragged the center table towards myself to continue my meal and 7up combo that was interrupted.
***Ah! Did you really think I’ll drag the table away from Iya Simi when she’s still eating? I dare not. That’s a ticket to 0-1-0 eating pattern the next day.***
Mother’s appetite was lost, she was dozing off while Akin was asleep so as I stood up to clear their leftovers I heard a familiar voice call my name.
Initially, I thought I was hallucinating but then again, I heard the voice for the second time.
The windows were wide open, a cool breeze was pouring in, the usual noise from our neighbor’s generator and the mosquitoes too, accompanied by the creaking sounds of the door, added to my fears. I didn’t know which direction the voice was coming from so I stood still. Sweating profusely, hands clenched, eyes scouting for whose voice I heard.
I was trying to figure out how there was another voice in my home aside from my mother’s and my brother’s. One voice in me said it was grandma, the second voice argued that I was hallucinating.
“Simisola!” , the familiar voice called out again, this time it echoed. Inadvertently, I flung the plates towards the direction I had guessed the voice was coming from.
Was that an attack strategy or a coping mechanism for my fears? I really don’t know.
The sounds of the metal plates crashing on the floor woke them up.
“Simisola, what’s the matter?”Mother asked like she sensed danger but couldn’t spell it out.
“Sister Simi, what is it na? You woke me up!”Akin complained, hissed and switched his sleeping position.
I packed the plates and mopped the floor where the leftovers got spilled on. Mother was awake now so I wasn’t afraid.
“Simi! Sit down”, mother commanded.
“Yes ma”, I obliged.
“What happened ? Tell me honestly”.
Her countenance showed that she wanted to figure out a hint of the problem.
“Er, I …. Actually… I think I …”, I never imagined that I’ll be so afraid to the extent of stammering but there I was.
“Speak my dear, nothing will go wrong”
“I think Akin is right” , I said after I managed to gather the courage to speak.
“Right about what?”, her furrowed brows tells me that she wasn’t convinced.
“Grandma!”, I yelled.
“I don’t understand you”, she was still not convinced.
“I think Akin is right about hearing Grandma’s voice”.
“Are you seriously becoming fearful too? Mama has rested in the Lord, stop imagining nonsense”, Mother had a sly smile on her face while clapping her hands in disbelief.
“I wasn’t imagining mummy”, I replied rapidly.
“You’re beginning to sound like Akin”, she said.
“I really heard her. In fact, I remember that she used to tell me and Akin that when she dies, she would visit us once in a while”.
Mother laughed and I couldn’t understand why.
“Have you heard about superstitions?”
“Yes”
“Exactly, those are just stories told to make you feel scared, mama told me the same stories when her husband died”.
“Are you sure? I really heard the voice o”
“Simisola, are you doubting me?
“No mummy”
“ I said it’s not real , okay?”
“Okay ma”.
“Go and make my bed, I want to sleep”.
Suddenly, the spoons and utensils started clanging, the curtains swaying, the light from the lantern flickering, even the artificial fruits on the center table were blown away, the ceiling made funny noises, the cool breeze became cold like it was announcing the arrival of a heavy rainfall.
My eyes locked with mother’s and I was sure we had the same question to ask each other.
“Is that grandma?”
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